The End of All Your Lines
by acaelousqueadcentrum
Summary: Prompt: Gail and Holly, Birdy's "Skinny Love," smut, and angst.
1. Chapter 1

Each heartbeat seems slower, longer.

The time between one, and the next, and the next are drawn out. Are little, tense eternities.

She lives and dies a hundred times in each empty space.

And loves.

She loves.

In the end, in the last moments and in the final breaths, all that's left is love.

* * *

_It was sunny when she woke, the early morning light peeking in past the curtains. Somewhere in the distance birds chirped angrily at each other, and down in the next yard she could hear the neighbor whistling as he swept the twigs and leaves, victims of last night's storms, from his drive. The temperature, achingly hot for days, had finally broken, and a gentle breeze whispered past her skin. _

_The worst of the late-summer heat wave seemed to have passed on. _

_Gail sat up and smiled to herself, taking note of the time. _

_The alarm hadn't gone off yet, and wasn't set to wake them up for another forty-five minutes or so. _

_Plenty of time, she thought, maneuvering carefully, trying not to wake up the woman at her side. _

_Plenty of time. _

* * *

That's the problem, of course, Gail thinks, feeling the way the fabric of her shirt clings to her body, wet. Almost warm.

That's the problem.

There's never enough time.

She feels hot, feels this sort of formless heat, this raw burning. Inside her, consuming her from the inside out.

It's so strange, she thinks as she struggles to remember, to recall. Was it last night it rained? Was last night the storm that tamed the hot city air?

She's wet now, her face is, and she wonders if the rain has returned. If it will cool the heavy inferno in her chest, the heat and pressure that holds her down against the wet concrete.

Maybe this storm will finally mark the end of summer.

Maybe this time the cool air will last.

* * *

_Holly slept through Gail's gentle movements, barely moving as the blonde pulled back the single sheet that had covered them through the night. As Gail worked her way down the bed before slowly parting her girlfriend's long, dusky legs and settled herself in-between them. _

_It had been so hot when they went to bed, the storm just blowing in, that Holly forsook her usual nightclothes and instead climbed into their bed in just an olive green tank-top. Nothing else. _

_Any other night, a mostly-naked Holly climbing into bed would have ended with the both of them, completely-naked, and curled around each other. But last night they'd both been sweaty, not the good kind, and tired. Annoyed with all the little hassles of the day, short on tempers and patience. _

_But this morning was a whole new day. _

_Gail slowly lowered her head, placed a small kiss at the crook of Holly's inner-thigh, just where her leg met her torso. And then another, and another, letting her lips travel down, down, down Holly's skin, mapping out her path with barely-there kisses. _

_Until she reached the apex above Holly's sex, the thicket of dark curls that Gail loved to run her fingers through as they made love. And there, just over the place where Holly's clit lay hidden, and waiting, Gail pressed her lips, let the barest tip of her tongue sneak past her lips for her first taste of Holly's morning-sweet flesh. _

_"Hmmmm," Holly said in her sleep, her hips shifting just the slightest under Gail's lips. _

_And then the blonde moved lower. _

* * *

She knows even before she feels the impact.

She knows in the breath before the sound, in the exhale before the shot.

It's bad, it's going to be bad.

Their intel was wrong, or someone said something they shouldn't've.

Or maybe it was just luck, too many things gone right.

Things had been going so well lately, professionally. Personally.

Things had been going so well, she'd been so happy.

Maybe it was just time for the universe to even the score.

* * *

_Gail dipped her head and sought out Holly's clit with her tongue, the scent of her girlfriend's soap and something deeper, something that was Holly's scent alone, overwhelming her senses as she licked and teased at her girlfriend's flesh. _

_She was gentle, so gentle. Making slow, tortuously slow circles on the sensitive skin surrounding the doctor's clit. Gail could feel the little minute changes as she went, as her girlfriend's body responded to her ministrations. The slight twitch of muscle under skin, the little noises Holly made, the sharp and lazy intake of breath. All the things Gail loves about making love to the dark-haired woman. _

_But subtler. _

_Subdued. _

_Still, no less sexy. No less gorgeous than usual. _

_Gail touched the tip of her tongue to the top of her girlfriend's swollen bundle of nerves, and felt as Holly's hips cant up into her, seeking out more contact. The blonde smiled against her lover's body. Asleep, awake, Holly's body was always so response, so attuned to her own. _

_Now, answering the brunette's need, Gail laid the flat of her tongue against Holly's warm, hot flesh. Just laid her tongue in the space between Holly's lips, against her throbbing clit. _

_And waited. _

_Until she felt her girlfriend's body move again, felt her hips thrust sleepily against her warm, wet tongue. _

_Then again, with a little more precision. _

_There we go, Gail thought as she felt Holly's hand come down to tangle in her hair, settle at the base of her head. _

_"Fuck, honey," the brunette said, her voice thick with arousal and the fog of sleep. _

_Gail tilted her head, just enough so she could see into her girlfriend's eyes, see the expression on her face. _

_"Morning," she said, swallowing, and then returned to her task, Holly's moan almost drowned out by the sound of her racing blood. _

_Holly's hand tightened in her hair. _

_And pulled. _

* * *

She steadies her hand, taking what comfort she can in the harsh feel of velcro against her neck. It was supposed to be a routine questioning, just a squad sent out to interview a witness.

A normal day.

A normal task.

Simple.

But it wasn't.

It never happened that way.

Never.

Because here she is, a gun pointed at her head, her partner on the floor at her back. The suspect had gotten a jump on him, cold-cocked him and knocked him to the ground.

And now she's starting at him down the barrel of her gun, watching as the sweat gathers and stings at his eyes. Sees the unsteady hands, the trembling lip. Sees his eyes flick back and forth, from her to the gun, the gun to her.

He's young, so young.

Already, his life is over.

Still, he doesn't know it. Still, he has hope.

But she doesn't. She knows.

He's going to pull the trigger, she can see it in his eyes, the desperation.

And then, he blinks.

And for a second, for one blinding moment, everything goes dark.

* * *

_Gail moaned into her girlfriend's soaked flesh, her tongue circling Holly's entrance, chasing the taste of her arousal. _

_There, just inside. _

_And then up, up, up. _

_Until she was thrusting the firm muscle of her tongue deep, deep into Holly, inside of her lover's gorgeous, delicious pussy. _

_Her thumb was busy against the brunette's clit, working in tight, unyielding circles around the sensitive nub. And then, every once and a while, Gail would break the cycle, and swipe the pad against it hard, determinedly. Relishing in the way Holly would arch her back, push her feet into the mattress and thrust against her mouth. _

_The sounds coming from the head of the bed were glorious. Gone were the breathy moans and the soft curses. Gone were the "fucks," and "gods," and "Gails." _

_Holly was past the point of sense, her body and mind lost to the race towards her orgasm, the orgasm Gail was fast rushing her toward. Now all Gail could hear over the wet sound of her tongue, and the brush of her hair against the brunette's thighs were Holly's almost animal panting, her high cries and shuddering breaths, faster and faster as she drove her lover to the precipice of pleasure. _

_And then, like the final note of some beautiful symphony, held long after all the other instruments had faded away, just a single note. Holly's cry as she lost control, as she thrust mindlessly against Gail's mouth, Gail's tongue. As her cum poured over her lover's tongue, as Gail lapped it up, drank from her. _

_And then, silence. _

_Loud, and deafening. _

_The sound of comfort. _

_And love. _

* * *

The locker room is buzzing with noise as she preps for roll. But she's used to it, enough that she can ignore it without much effort.

She pulls up her duty trousers, tucking the dark blue tails of her shirt into her waistband. Settling the belt over her hips and buckling it tight.

There's a mirror in her locker, hanging from the door, but she never looks at it.

Instead, as she completes her morning ritual, as she settles into the day and lets the familiarity of habit soothe her, her eyes rest on the picture of the woman taped just above it. And looking at it, at the face she loves so well, the face she's spent countless hours memorizing, she straps on her vest.

And then, a silent vow.

To be safe.

To be smart.

To always, always come home.

A promise, sealed with the press of her fingertip against her lover's lips.

* * *

_"Mmmmmm," Holly said as her lover crawled up to lay next to her and joined their mouths. _

_Gail smiled into the kiss, and let their tongues play lazily together, let the doctor taste herself, her pleasure, on the blonde's lips, tongue. _

_"Good morning," she said in return, pulling back just the slightest. _

_Holly was beautiful in the morning, always. Hair mussed, and her slightly crooked smile just a bit lazy, a bit more relaxed than normal. Gail loved to look at her, just look, in the early morning light. _

_The brunette hummed, the sound low in her throat. _

_"Good morning to you too," she answered, a gentle grin on her face, "what was that for, babe?" _

_Gail laughed, and kissed her girlfriend again. _

_"Just because. I love you. I woke up and it was cool in here and you felt so good sleeping next to me. I couldn't resist," she said. _

_Holly stretched, arching her body into Gail's. _

_"How much time do we have," the doctor asked, "enough for me to return the favor?" She grinned wickedly at her girlfriend. _

_But Gail glanced over at the clock and shook her head. _

_"Sadly, babe, not so much. I have to get to work. But," Gail said with a soft smile, almost shy, "tonight, when I get home from work? I'm all yours."_

_Holly kissed her. _

_On the lips._

_On the cheek._

_On the tip of her nose._

_"Sure, baby," she said, "we've got time."_


	2. Chapter 2

The letter sits on their dresser for weeks, the pale grey envelope with her name on it in Gail's messy handwriting propped up against the picture of them from Christmas a year or two ago.

They're sitting in the big armchair at the Peck's house—well, she's sitting in the big armchair. Gail's sitting on the arm, halfway to sliding into her lap. She did, Holly remembers, just after the picture was taken. Full of Bill's potent egg nog and warm from the fire just behind them, she'd cuddled right into Holly in the chair, not caring a bit what anyone else would think.

It's one of the few times Gail seemed completely free, completely unburdened by the world. Content to sit in Holly's lap and watch while everyone opened presents, while Holly opened theirs.

They were warm and happy and completely in love. And that's what Holly wants to remember the most.

Even now.

Even when it hurts.

* * *

_Dear Holly,_

_I'm sorry._

_I promised you I'd always come home and if you're reading this, I lied._

_I didn't mean to, truly. If it was up to me, I'd come home to you forever. You should know that._

_If I have a choice, Hols, I'll always pick you._

* * *

Holly doesn't remember much about the funeral.

Rows of dress uniforms, yes.

Flags and white gloves and a final salute.

The dark wood of the coffin, the drizzle of rain.

But beyond that, her memory is hazy. People spoke. People hugged her. People introduced themselves to her and spoke to her. People cried.

Holly didn't, that much she can remember. By the time the day of the funeral arrived she'd had no more tears to cry.

The after, that she remembers more clearly.

Riding back to the Peck house with Elaine and Bill and Steve. Sitting silently in living room with a cold cup of tea that someone had given her. Listening to people share memories of Gail as a child, as a teenager, as a rookie. Hearing stories Gail never would have told her.

Someone asked her how she was doing, and she parrotted the same response she'd been giving for days.

She was surviving.

There was nothing more to say.

Eventually she dozed off, the plush armchair and the warm fire lulling her into a false sense of safety, of security.

And then someone, Steve probably, carried up her up into Gail's old childhood bedroom and tucked under the covers, the faintest smell of Gail still on the pillows. And the last thing she remembers of the most terrible day in her life is a gentle hand on her cheek, soft and sorry. Elaine.

* * *

_I guess something went wrong. I hope it wasn't me. I hope I did what was right. I hope that I didn't screw-up, didn't give anyone a reason to be disappointed in me._

_That's the thing, Holly. I've screwed up so much in my life. I've disappointed everyone I know at one point or another. I'm writing this and thinking of all the mistakes I've made, all the things I've done wrong, and you know what I keep coming back to, over and over again?_

_You._

_You are the best thing in my life, Holly. And even when I've screwed up, even when I've walked away, you've always forgiven me for the things I've done._

_I hope you can forgive me for this._

* * *

She doesn't sleep in their bed. Not for days.

She sleeps on the couch instead, curled up under a quilt, while someone else watches from the chair.

Lisa, Rachel, Traci, Steve, Oliver, she's surrounded the first couple of days. Kept company by people who have no idea what to say, no idea what to do. Who sit in silence and in grief and look at her with sorrow in their eyes.

Traci is the only one Holly can stand to be around. Because she was the only one who has any idea of what Holly is feeling, what Holly is going through.

Eventually, Holly shoos them all out; all but Traci.

She asks the other woman what it will be like, this grief. She asks her if it will ever go away, ever get better.

She asks Traci even though she knows the answer already.

It won't.

It doesn't.

The worst part, Traci had tells her, is the forgetting. Forgetting that the person they love is gone. Waking up and wondering why the other side of the bed is cold. Dialing the number and hearing the operator's message at the other end. Wanting to share exciting news and realizing you have no one to tell.

This is just the beginning, Holly knows. From now on she'll be measuring time as how many years since.

It's been four days since, and the future stretches out, long and empty, in front of her.

* * *

_But I hope you can forgive me for not kissing you again in that coat closet too. For not realizing what I was feeling when we went out to the batting cages. For not calling you like I wanted before you ended up on a date at the Penny._

_I hope you can forgive me for all the time I wasted. Because I wasted so much, Holly. We could have had so much more but I was stupid and I was stubborn and I didn't understand how I could feel so much for someone I'd just met._

_You are the person I spent my whole life waiting to love, Holly, and I hope you can eventually forgive me for not being around to show you._

* * *

She always thought that if this day came, it'd be Oliver who came for her.

It isn't.

When the day comes, it's Steve who stands at the door of the lab, his voice somber and hollow.

She knows before he said a word, knows that there is no hope.

Knows that Gail is gone.

Still, she needs to hear it, needs to hear the words from Gail's big brother's lips.

The words will haunt her for years to come.

She doesn't bother to deny it, doesn't bother to insist that they'd got it wrong, that they'd screwed up somehow. Doesn't bother trying to believe that Gail would walk in at any moment and ask her what was wrong.

She drops her scalpel, her hands are shaking so violently, and waits for them to steady before picking it up again. Even at her worst, she has a job to do.

It's not until her assistant touches her wrists, and takes away her instruments, that she realizes she's not steady at all. Her whole body's just joined in.

It's not until Steve's wrapped her up in his arms, until she can feel the wet fabric of his shirt, that she realizes she's crying.

* * *

_It's late, and you're asleep next to me in bed. And I'm trying to remember everything about this moment, about you. Because right now, in this moment, I know I'm happy. And that's why I have to write this now. Because I'm happy and I want you to know that it's because of you. Because you're snoring just a little bit and you keep kicking my leg with your cold toes, but I know that if I slide down to lay next to you, you'll wrap your arms around me and hold me close._

_I should stop now, though, because if I keep writing I'll get tears on the paper and I want you to remember that I was happy when I wrote this. I want you to remember that I was always happy when I was with you, that you made me so happy._

_More than happy, Hols, you made me whole. Every piece of me that someone else took away, every scar that someone else left, you filled with your love. You made me a whole person and I hope—God, Hol, I hope—that somehow I made you feel the same._

* * *

She can taste herself on Gail's tongue, on Gail's lips. Her lover kisses her deeply, her face still wet with Holly's warm cum, and Holly's muscles twist and flop with renewed arousal. She wants to do the same for Gail, bring Gail to the same heights she's just been taken to.

She wants to feel Gail's hand in her hair and Gail's clit between her lips, wants to feel Gail thrust her hips up into the feeling of being filled, so filled, as Holly thrusts into her.

She wants to hear Gail's breath get faster and her voice get higher, wants to hear her girlfriend, her love, shout her pleasure to the roottops.

Holly wants to mark her with her love, to give her something to remember as the slow hours of the day tick and tock away.

But instead, Gail rises from their bed—work beckons.

And it's okay, Holly tells her.

They've got tonight.

They've got tomorrow.

They've got the rest of their goddamned lives.

* * *

_Be happy. And be loved. This is what I want for you. Even if it's without me, this is what I want for you._

_I love you, Holly Stewart. You made my life better, and you made me better. And I'm so, so sorry that I broke my word._

_I'm so sorry, baby._

_I love you._

_Gail_


End file.
